The Last Of The Barons, Volume 12.

in his post, amidst the arrows which whirled round him, and often struck, blunted, against his Milan mail, the marquis receive

lver Star' of Lord Oxford's banner." [The Silver Star of the De Veres had its origin in a tradition that one of their ancestors, when figh

lowed the enemy he routed to t

be decoyed from the field! Ride back, sir! Yet hold!"-as another

the earl. The duke himself seems inspired by hell! Twice has his slight arm braved

e centre, sir?" as a

nto the midst. But Somerset still holds on galla

is men, to the left wing, and smite Gloucester in the rear. Ride, ride,

off, and the mist swallo

s left; and Warwick must be strengthened. On to the earl! Laissez aller! A Montagu! a Montagu!" And lance in rest, the marquis and the knights immediately around him, a

roved the trust that had consigned to his stripling arm the flower of the Yorkist army. Through the mists the blood-red manteline he wore over his mail, the grinning teeth of the boar's head which crested his helmet, flashed and gleamed wherever his presence was most needed to encourage the f

these are no natural vapours! Yonder the mighty friar, who delayed the sails of Margaret, chants his spells to the Powers that ride the gale. Fear not the bombards,- their enchanted balls swerve from the brave! The dark legions of Air fight for

ing all, with as much ease and lightness as the racer bears its puny weight; the steed itself was scarce less terrible to encounter than the sweep of the rider's axe. Protected from arrow and lance by a coat of steel, the long chaffron, or pike, which projected from its barbed frontal dropped with

rest,-in that, his first great battle, as in his last at Bosworth, he singled out the leader, and rushed upon the giant as the mastiff on the horns and dewlap of the bull. Warwick, in the broad space which his arm had made around him in the carnage, reined in as he saw the foe and recognized the grisly cognizance and scarlet mantle of his godson. And even in that moment, with all his heated blood and his remembered wrong and his imminent peril, his generous and lion heart felt a glow of admiration a

e that sounded hollow through his helmet; "it is not

his hour I love you well; but I love renown and glory more. On the edge of my sword sit power and royalty, and what high souls prize most,-ambition; these would nerve me against my own brother's breast, were that breast my barrier to an illustrious future. Thou hast given thy daughter

on either side came boldly forward, and the melee grew fierce and general. But still Richard's sword singled out the earl, and still the earl, parrying his blows, dealt his own upon meaner heads. Crushed by one sweep of the axe fell Milwater to the earth; down, as again it swung on high, fell Sir Humphrey Bourchier, who had just arrived to Gl

s cry, the merry men of Yorkshire and Warwick, the warrior yeomen! Separated thus from his great foe, Gloucester, after unhorsing Marm

le to expect men of pith and substance to be crushed into jellies and carved into subtleties by horse-hoofs and pole-axes. Right about face! Fly!"- and throwing down his sword and shield, the lieutenant fairly took to his heels as he saw the charging column, headed by the raven steed of Warwick, come giant-like through the fog. The terror of one man is contagious, and the Londoners actually turned their backs, when Nicholas Alwyn cried, in his shrill voice and northern accent, "Out on you! What will the girls say of us in East-gate and the Chepe? Hurrah for the bold hearts of London! Round me, stout 'prentices! let the boys shame the men! This shaft for Coc

usion, and drove them, despite all the efforts of Gloucester, far back along the plain. This well-timed exploit served to extricate the earl from the main danger of his position; and, hasteni

adron-seemed vanished from the field. Halting now, as through the dim atmosphere came from different quarters the many battle-cries of that feudal-day, by which alone he could well estimate the strength or weakness of those in the distance, his calmer ge

Feebler and feebler, scatteringly as it were, and here and

ed and blent together,

rike for D'Eyncourt an

Sa

eve thy laurels, and bring up the reserve under Clarence. But hark ye, leave not his side,-he may desert again! Ho! ho! Again, 'Gloucester to the rescue!' Ah, how lustily sounds t

each, that they might not lose themselves in the darkness, regained his infantry, and led them on to the quarter w